


I'll Be The One

by triggerlil



Series: Tumblr Prompts [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Draco is def ooc in this, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Merpeople, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, POV Alternating, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, The Great Lake | The Black Lake (Harry Potter), Triwizard Tournament, in order to write a great lake swap someone has to be ooc tbh, just go with it, the second task
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerlil/pseuds/triggerlil
Summary: What if Harry had to rescue Draco during the second task? What if Draco secretly hoped that it could mean something? And what if the magic that dictates who rests at the bottom of the lake is less about the now, and more about the future?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Tumblr Prompts [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660129
Comments: 31
Kudos: 101





	I'll Be The One

When Draco walked into Dumbledore’s office, he hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it certainly hadn’t been this. He was the most important person to Harry Potter, apparently. More than Weasley, more than Granger, more than anyone else in Hogwarts. He didn’t want to let himself get too excited, didn’t want to let his heart run away with him, but ever since he’d found out, a seed of hope had begun to unfurl within his chest. Small, green, frail, but alive.

🧜

Harry stood at the edge of the Great Lake, his hands shaking, the bitter taste of Gillyweed in his mouth, took a deep breath—and jumped. He was immediately enveloped in cold, the world around him water and wet and cold and panic, until he felt pain blossom around his neck, a sharp relief for his freezing limbs, and suddenly—oxygen. He felt it fill his lungs and brushed a hand over his newly developed gills. They felt raw and fleshy, the sensation sending another shiver through his body. He had to hurry, he had to find them. His person was down there. The person most important to him. He didn’t know who it was, but he had to rescue them, couldn’t let them drown. Merlin, he couldn’t let them drown.

He reached out a tentative hand and then another, realizing they were not hands, but strangely webbed flippers. The same with his feet, and he moved forward gracefully, as if he belonged there, deep under the lake. As he swam, seaweed licked at his legs, the world suddenly so clear, full of different shades of blue, brown, black, and green, bubbles floating up from unknown sources, shadows eating at what little light survived this deep below the water.

The village of merpeople was hauntingly beautiful, their stone houses and coral gardens creeping out of the rock formations, swirling patterns carved into the surfaces of all their buildings. Harry swam through, what felt like hundreds of yellow eyes following his every move.

At the center of the village, tied down with magical ropes to ornate pillars, were Hermione, Cho, a girl with silvery hair that Harry took to be Fleur’s sister, and… Draco Malfoy.

Harry started reaching for Hermione, but at once several gray hands seized him. Merpeople were pulling him back, shaking their heads of tangled green hair, flicking their tails agitatedly. 

“I need to save her,” he said, the words coming out in silver bubbles.

“You take your own hostage,” one of them said. “Leave the others...”

“But Hermione is my hostage—I mean, she’s my person!” Harry said, but the merperson shook their head, pointing a spear at Malfoy. 

“Malfoy?” 

“Take your hostage,” the merperson said again. 

Harry swam over, examing the ropes. He couldn’t help examining Malfoy too, his pale blond hair floated around his head, his lips tinted a slight blue, face oddly peaceful in his current stasis. Harry swam forward, running a webbed hand over Malfoy’s robes, which buoyed around him.

He looked to one of the merpeople standing near him, spear at the ready, as if to question why Malfoy was there, but they simply looked back stoically. How was Malfoy in any way Harry’s most important person? Harry hated him, or he thought he had—he still did… Didn’t he? He watched the tiny stream of bubbles coming out of Malfoy’s mouth, his sharp cheeks all the more prominent under the water, the slant of his nose. Until he remembered why he was there. He looked around for anything sharp he could use to cut the rope.

🧜

Harry burst from the water, relishing the fresh air, his lungs screaming. He supported Malfoy with one arm, the girl with the other, as they both spluttered awake. As the cold of the water began once more to seep into him, the effects of the Gillyweed completely dissipating, Malfoy beamed at him, eyes glittering and intense. Harry didn’t even know what to say; why was it _Malfoy_? It could have been Ron, or even bloody Hedwig. But Malfoy? The only thing important about Malfoy was how much Harry passionately hated him… Oh.

“Help me,” Harry grunted, “I don’t think she can swim very well.”

They guided the girl to the shore, Malfoy still not saying a word, and after much thanks from Fleur, were enveloped in blankets, hot potion forced down their throats.

“Thank you for rescuing me, Harry,” Malfoy said, his cheeks flushed, from the potion or using Harry’s first name, he couldn’t tell.

“Whatever, Malfoy,” he grumbled, “I don’t know why you were there in the first place.”

“I—” Malfoy said, “what?”

But Harry couldn’t respond, the judges giving out their points, everyone clapping and excited. Harry knew he should be thrilled, tied first place with _Cedric_ , but he felt completely empty. Malfoy’s hair was still dripping wet, hanging down around his forehead, and it looked so oddly endearing that it made Harry want to blast him with a drying charm himself.

“Harry—” Hermione began, looking from him to Malfoy awkwardly, but Harry didn’t let her finish. He stormed off, not sure where he was going, but knowing that he couldn’t stand to be near Malfoy for one more minute.

🧜

Draco found Harry in the great hall, sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of him. There was no one else there, much to Draco’s surprise. It was rare to see the chosen one without Weasley and Granger.

“This seat taken?” Draco asked, his voice coming out half joking, half sarcastic.

Harry said nothing, so Draco sat down next to him. A mug of hot chocolate appeared in front of him, marshmallows floating on the top.

“We should probably talk,” Draco said, blowing on his steaming drink. “About the task.”

“I don’t really want to,” Harry replied, “It was dumb.”

“It wasn’t dumb. It was brave, what you did.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously, “that seems kind of rich, coming from you.”

“Everything from me is rich,” Draco attempted, laughing awkwardly. Harry didn’t laugh. The energy in the air felt charged, and Draco took a deep breath, willing himself to say what he needed.

“Potter, I was happy when they asked me to join the second task. I like you, or I think—I could learn to like you, a lot, if it’s not too late to get over our differences.”

Harry said nothing, and Draco was compelled to talk into the void. The way Harry’s brow was furrowed, bent over his mug, hair wild and untamed from the lake water, green eyes staring fiercely into the table, spurring him on to fill the silence.

“I’m sorry, by the way, for everything. You saved me; even though you didn’t have to, you did.”

“I did have to.”

“What?”

“For one, the points, but I thought you were going to die if I didn’t.”

“You what?”

“I thought you were going to die,” Harry growled, “I didn’t realize Dumbledore had it rigged, but obviously he did.”

“Potter—”

“I don’t like you, Malfoy.”

And with those five words, the flower that had been steadily growing in Draco’s heart was uprooted, the soil burned. He doubted anything would be able to grow there again.

🧜

“And I will never like you,” Harry continued, all the anger and stress bubbling up and pushing him on, “I hate you. That’s why you were chosen for me. Because our rivalry is important, and your hatred spurs me on, no other reason. I only care enough about you to keep you from dying, that’s _it_.”

He stood up, leaving his barely drunk cocoa on the table. Malfoy reached out, grabbing on to the edge of Harry’s robes, and he stilled.

“Do I really—But I _like_ you, Potter,” Malfoy said, his voice cracking.

Harry felt his own heart clench, but he steeled himself.

“Does it look like I bloody care?” Harry snapped, ripping his robes out of Malfoy’s grip.

As Harry stalked forward, opening the doors to the Great Hall, he heard Malfoy hiccupping behind him, trying and failing to hold in sobs. He felt a trickle of guilt, his gut stirring, but he wouldn’t give Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing him turn around. So, he walked out of the Great Hall, away from Malfoy. Not for the first time, he wished he could walk away from it all.

Laying in bed that night, he stared at the drapes pulled around his bed, watching them ripple like the waters of the Great Lake. He couldn’t get the picture of Malfoy’s ghostly face underwater out of his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to Jack for brainstorming and being an amazing beta! And if you liked this ficlet please consider leaving a comment/kudos, it would mean a lot to me! 
> 
> If you want me to write some drarry fic for a prompt you have in mind, shoot me an [ask on tumblr!](https://triggerlil.tumblr.com/ask) It sometimes takes a little bit for me to get to them because I have a part-time job and I'm a student, but my inbox is always open regardless. :)


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